One evening a few years ago, I attended a forum on
anti-Judaism in the text of Bach's "St. John's Passion." It was
Easter season, and the meeting was hosted by an Episcopal church in a
Boston suburb and cosponsored by a chorus that was about to perform the
piece. The speakers were the pastor; the chorus director; the
paleontologist, Jew, and bass Stephen Jay Gould; and James Carroll, then
known as a novelist and memoirist.

The choral director and pastor made well-intended efforts to reconcile
great art and vileness, while Gould declared himself able to sing such
lines as "away with him, crucify him!" with sufficient historical
perspective that no sweat broke--and was convincing. And then Jim
Carroll, in his earnest public manner, said that Christianity would
never rid itself of the culture and sin of anti-Semitism until its
scriptures were newly understood by all Christians as documents
corrupted by the human failings of their authors.

At this point, an elderly woman seated behind me turned to the elderly
woman seated beside her and whispered: "Oh, no. They're not going to
take that away from us."

"They," she was saying, may have had good reason for persuading
Christian churches to abjure anti-Semitic preachings and teachings.
"They" may have had good reason for convincing many Christians to
change the way they consider Jews and Judaism. And "they" may even
have been right about making certain Easter traditions conditional on
crowding 250 people into church to consider the consequences of text.
But "they" simply could not be allowed to change the way Christians,
innocent in their beds and Barcaloungers and pews, read the Word of God
and relate to the beloved, familiar, and inspiring locutions and stories
of the New Testament.
-ESSAY: Can
Christianity Be Purged of Anti-Semitism Without Changing the
Gospels? (Ben Birnbaum, October 2001,
Moment)

I asked Foxman if he believed that Gibson was an anti-Semite. "Per se, I don't think that Mel Gibson is anti-Semitic," Foxman said. "I think that he is insensitive."

But what of "The Passion" itself, I asked. Is the film anti-Semitic? "The film, per se, is not anti-Semitic," Foxman said. The problem, he added, was that, as with any literal reading of the New Testament, its message of love could be twisted into something hateful. "The film can fuel, trigger, stimulate, induce, rationalize, legitimize anti-Semitism," Foxman said.

"You know, the Gospels, if taken literally, can be very damaging, in the same way if you take the Old Testament literally," Foxman went on. "It says, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' Now, has the Jewish state, or have Jews, practiced the Old Testament by taking an eye for an eye? No. So a literal reading of almost anything can lead to all kinds of things."

Speaking with Foxman made me realize just what it was that Gibson had done in making "The Passion." Gibson had said from the start that he was going to make a movie taken straight from the Gospels. Foxman was saying that, for better or worse, Gibson had done just that.
-ESSAY:
THE JESUS WAR: Mel Gibson's obsession (PETER J. BOYER, SEPTEMBER
15, 2003, The New Yorker)

To commemorate the 250th anniversary of Johann Sebastian Bach's death,
in 2000, Helmuth Rilling, artistic director of the International
Bachakademie Stuttgart, commissioned four versions of the Passion, by
composers from a variety of cultures. La Pasion Segun San Marcos
(St. Mark Passion) is Osvaldo Golijov's entry in the Passion 2000
Project and it was greeted with rave reviews. Mr. Golijov, though
European by ethnic background, was born and raised in Argentina. His
Passion is reimagined for his continent, classical oratorio by
way of Afro-Carribean music. As the liner notes of the album say:

"I don't have a theological burden here, but I do have to
discover the truth.", says Golijov. For him, Jesus is a black person, of
course.

Besides a black Jesus, the piece also features flamenco dancing, mamba,
rhumba, persistent drumming and Mr. Golijov also has Christ's words sung
not just by a male soloist but by a female and by the chorus. It makes
for a raucous--perhaps even cacophonous--and necessarily unusual telling
of the story. It struck me as mostly a novelty, somewhat amusing but,
especially by comparison to Bach, quite trifling. It is easy to see how
it could be offensive to the devout Christian, but the very universality
of the Passion means that it can withstand a good bit of tampering and
experimentation and still communicate its core message, that the most
profound events in human history took place over those several days
2,000 years ago. So, if Mr. Golijov chose not to treat the material with
as much reverence as some might have liked, he was certainly within his
rights.

In fact, one could hardly have expected him to treat the Passion in
straightforward fashion because Mr,. Golijov is Jewish. Predictably
then, he has
said, "I don't believe in resurrection, and I don't believe Jesus
was God." Well, he wouldn't believe would he? But even still, few would
argue that, as an artist, he is not entitled to make the Passion his own
and make his own Passion. There would seem to be some risk, political
risk anyway, in a Jewish composer rewriting Christian theology--whether
he feels the burden or not, it is after all theological--but the work
must ultimately stand or fall on its own merits. Personally, I think it
leans but remains standing.

What's fascinating though is to compare Mr. Golijov's Passion to Mel
Gibson's attempt to tell a very literal version of the story and to
examine the hysterical reaction that has greeted his film, a film few,
if any, of his critics have even seen. There's certainly legitimate
criticism to be made of the way
Passion plays were used in the past, but what is most disturbing
here is the suggestion that the story of the Passion is in and of itself
anti-Semitic and should not be told. Rabbi A. James Rudin has written
in one essay that: "The Crucifixion story is radioactive material."
and the title of another of his essays is When
Jesus dies, passions rise, and anti-Semitism thrives. Marvin Hier
and Harold Brackman, writing in the LA Times, compared
the Passion to a recent biopic about Adolph Hitler. Perhaps least
fair is the suggestion that to defend the film against charges of
anti-Semitism may be anti-Semitic: -ESSAY: The
Real Problem with the Passion: I don't know if the film is
anti-Jewish. But the response to criticism of the movie smacks of
anti-Semitism. (Amy-Jill Levine, BeliefNet). We approach very dangerous
ground here, for if it is seriously the position of some group of people
that the Gospel story is inherently anti-Semitic and must therefore not
be told, let us face reality and say that they will not be listened too.
In fact, they can do nothing but breed resentment. And because many of
them will be Jews telling Christians what it is appropriate to believe,
how can it but serve to breed an anti-Jewish backlash, regardless of
whether there's inherent anti-Semitism to begin with?

[T]he second reason we Jews need to learn some
deep-breathing and other relaxation techniques is the one that always
gets lost when others less meticulous than Fredriksen publicly humiliate
a Christian for espousing his beliefs. If we are empowered to edit their
doctrine, then why are they not empowered to edit ours?

In the past, Christians felt justified in telling Jews what we were
entitled to write and read if it touched upon their savior. The Talmud
was censored with their denunciations, and worse, in mind.

There seems little danger "The Passion" will incite violence. However,
if it were to arouse Christians to demand that Jews similarly submit
our
faith for their approval - well, then, the attempt to cow Mel Gibson
will have been most helpful to would-be Christian censors in making
their case.

If Gibson someday says he would like to have a look at the Talmud with
a view to fixing it up with some additional corrections, we should let
Paula Fredriksen have a go at explaining to him why this would be
inappropriate.

What is the difference between Jews telling Christians what to believe
and Christians telling Jews?

None of this is to suggest that Jews should not be concerned about
representations of the Passion, nor that they should not keep a wary
eye. But we do live in a different country and a different time.
Anti-Semitism is still very real, but there are many, and vocal,
Christians and non, who very forcefully advocate for a reconciliation
between Judaism and Christianity. For example, though he's a very conservative Catholic,
Richard John Neuhaus's essay "Salvation
Is from the Jews" is a model of Christian-Jewish
understanding. That other, equally inclusive Christian scholars, like Michael Novak, have seen the film and found no anti-Semitism in it, nor
has David
Horowitz, who is constantly on guard for such things in the arts and
the academy, nor Michael Medved, should at least give the critics some pause. Should they really be trying to censor a film they haven't seen and which so many vouch for?

And if such censorship is warranted, because they find the Passion tale to be de facto anti-Semitic, then what forms of anti-Christian censorship might be equally appropriate? Should Osvaldo Golijov have to rewrite his Passion? Let's hope that's not where we're headed.

I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the one Nietzsche ridiculed as "God on the Cross." In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us.
-John Stott